Cherry Contact

Chapter 2

"You know what I'm here for," Junior says with a coy smile as he kicks his feet up on Flynn's desk. His eyes glint as if he is standing over a grave Flynn is standing in that himself had dug, though it may be his grave - he is not the one who got his hands dirty. His father, alongside his father, was unfortunately not of the same good morality that he now desperately clings to. Flynn sighs, nods opens the left bottom drawer of his desk, pops open the secret compartment, and fishes out a flash drive labeled 'DB'. It stands for dick bag - though that's not what he had told Junior the day their deal had been renewed. It had been when Flynn took over the company he is currently the CEO and Junior had already taken over after Senior. "With your cleverness and expertise, no one will ever catch us." Junior had said to him after the details of the deal had been carved out on a humid June afternoon years ago.
"Devil town is colder in the summertime." The quote from Cavetown flashes in his mind and almost makes him chuckle, but he plays it off as a cough and slightly loosens his tie. Though, it does make him think. If it is true, which Flynn could swear under oath that the leech of a human which sits before him is the living proof of how low a person can sink, then is the part that says "Falling doesn't feel so bad when I know you have fallen this way too", also applicable to the situation that he finds himself in? If Flynn falls, will Junior fall with him as their lifeworks crumble to dust? He knows that Junior would not hesitate to stab him in the back the second he would have the chance to bring him down with him, though it would be more in Flynn's chest as he can smell it coming some day in the future - although he can't tell if it will be sooner or later. Yeah, he is sick - in more ways than one.

Later, after he finally sits alone in his leather chair, it is as if the leech's presence is lingering, which makes Flynn think about the creature that is Junior. The small, alert eyes peer out from a light, unhealthy complexion, creating a constant appearance of distrust. His narrow eyes never quite show joy as his crooked grin exposes yellowed teeth above a thin, sharp nose. Junior's rough look is enhanced by his pockmarked skin and uneven facial hair, with signs of a risky lifestyle reflected in his receding hairline and dark circles under his eyes. His thin body is emphasized by a stooped posture, giving him a more gaunt appearance as his hollow cheeks highlight the tough quality of his skin. His looks, marked by scarred knuckles and a thin, sharp nose, are just as unsettling as his behavior, with a crooked grin further enhancing the feeling of him being someone one can't even want to trust. Flynn, who swings both ways, can not even begin to fathom that there might - emphasis on might - be someone out in this world who could find a man like him attractive. Flynn can't help but think that there is no possibility that he is anyone's type unless they have the world's most powerful beer glasses on.
As the day bleeds into nightfall, Flynn finds himself standing by the wall which is just one big window, and staring at the ant-sized cars painting the black road with their red taillights. Though exhausted by a day that had seemed as if it had no end, he knows that there is still much to do if he can go to bed without having a mountain of paperwork lying on his desk when he would the next time step into this office - he can't help but think, "Who needs sleep? I'll rest when I'm dead, but for now, I'm still going."

Finally arriving at his apartment at the crack of dawn, can't tell if he will be able to sleep and decides to pop a Non-BZD before crawling under the covers, still fully clothed. That's a worry for his future self to handle. Flynn sighs and grunts as he feels his muscle ache. His thoughts are running on speed, making him toss and turn until the tiredness kicks in - though not at any point could he make sense of a single thought before the darkness closes over him and he drifts.
Normally he doesn't remember his dreams, but this one or these - Flynn could not tell if it was a whole movie playing in his head or if there were pieces of a puzzle where they were forced together, creating chaos - made him feel as if it was all a fever dream. The room in Flynn's dream feels strangely familiar, yet unnervingly different. It is his office, but instead of the usual view outside the window, there's only an endless void, an abyss of pure darkness. As Flynn turns away from the window, he notices that the ceiling has disappeared, leaving nothing but a gaping black expanse above. From this void, black dahlia petals begin to fall, at first gently, like a morbid rain, but soon they cascade down in torrents, covering the room at an alarming speed.
The petals, dark as night and soft as velvet, swirl around him, piling up rapidly on the floor, almost as if they have a life of their own. The once familiar space is quickly transformed into a suffocating pit of darkness, the petals climbing up his legs, threatening to drown him in their suffocating embrace. The air becomes heavy with their scent - sweet but with a bitter, metallic edge that only adds to the sense of dread.
Suddenly, Flynn realizes he's not alone. A figure stands in the middle of the room, just beyond the reach of the falling petals. The figure is glitchy, its face flickering like a broken hologram, shifting rapidly between people Flynn knows - Amara, Junior, his father, his grandfather, and Owen. Each face is twisted, disturbed, and almost demon-like, reflecting the torment within Flynn's soul. As the faces shift, the figure begins to hurl accusations at him, its voice echoing through the dark room.
Amara's face glares at him with disappointment and pain, accusing him of betraying her without ever saying a word. Junior's sneering visage twists into one of hatred and mockery, embodying the loathing Flynn feels toward him. His father and grandfather's faces appear, stern and disapproving, reflecting Flynn's guilt over the legacy he's become entangled in. Owen's face flickers into view, torn between loyalty and judgment, intensifying Flynn's inner conflict.
The figure's words cut deep, each accusation a mirror to Flynn's guilt, hatred, and despair. The petals are now up to his chest, pulling him down as the figure's face shifts one last time. The final face is his own, but it's distorted, twisted, and bleeding, mirroring the desperation and self-loathing festering within him. Flynn stares into his own eyes, now filled with a madness that reflects the hatred he harbors for what he must do - the dark deal with Junior that he cannot escape.
The petals close in, swirling faster, rising higher, until Flynn is overwhelmed. His face is the last thing he sees before he's completely submerged, drowning in the suffocating mass of black dahlia petals, swallowed by the darkness and his consuming guilt. He can hear ZAND distantly whispering like faint static unbeknownst to him where "Eat the devil or there's nothing you can do."